


Out of this world

by JustCrushALot



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCrushALot/pseuds/JustCrushALot
Summary: We have Summer Shorts and Quantized Angst and Titillating Tales.I now present to you: Out of This World. A series of very short very AU one-shots. Space and magic and pirates and bending the rules of the universe.Just as much AU as some of you can stand and not enough for the others.I'm open to requests.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 77
Kudos: 130





	1. Weightless

The first time she sees it, it hits her: _I’m not home anymore_.

The second time she sees it the dark clouds swirling above it haunt her. They should be white—they were white in all of the pictures she saw when she was growing up. But, instead they are almost crimson, backlit by the fires below. _There is no home anymore._

When did humanity lose itself?

The third time she sees it, she sobs and shouts, but nobody hears her.

Who could? There’s no medium through which the vibrations can travel. _All is lost._

And then, she doesn’t see it anymore. In fact, she sees almost nothing for 68 days. She tries to look back, but it’s faded from the horizon.

It’s not until her ship docks beside the large pseudo-planet and she dresses in her assigned space suit that she sees that she is bleeding from her palm. The wound is deep, like her nails have been cutting into her for days without her realizing it.

That’s what happens when you are alone and nowhere: You lose yourself. You can only be yourself when you have a reference point to know who you’re not. To understand where you stop and someone else begins

But then the bay door opens, and she sees her through the glass.

She shakes her head— _Are there mirages in space?_

It’s all she can do not to collapse under the stranger’s gaze.

“Passenger 202317, Tobin Heath?”

She can’t remember how to speak, so she just nods.

“I’m…” the stranger extends a hand and Tobin finishes the sentence before she can stop herself, “beautiful.” Her face burns as she realizes the amount of control she’s lost.

When Tobin touches her outstretched hand she nearly faints. The handshake sears itself into her mind. An indelible touch.

She suddenly wants to be unsure of where she ends and this stranger begins.

With a chuckle the stranger adds, “I was going to say Christen, your welcome buddy. And you’re not so bad yourself. But also, you’ve been alone for 71 days, I think I might seem more beautiful than I am.”

Tobin searches Christen’s face, still holding her hand. “I am pretty sure you will only become more beautiful the more people I see.”

Christen blushes and withdraws her hand slowly. “Welcome aboard.”

—

Later, when they are moving together in Christen’s bunk, Tobin breathes out between kisses, “Who knew fate existed in outer space," and, "Thank god for the apocalypse.”


	2. Wishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For VegetableNinja who said:
> 
> "Hmm I think I want a fwb space pirates au where they are crew members and the rest of the crew doesn't know they're fwb"

It’s not the way Christen wanted Tobin, but it’s not so bad, either, when she really thinks about it. Sometimes something is better than nothing. Better to have a little money when they dock than none at all. And, better to have a little piece of Tobin than none at all.

It really all started a few weeks ago when they were in the cargo hold of the ship they’d taken. The crew had killed the power and the door was jammed. Tobin leaned around Christen to help her pull on the manual latch they’d sort of just—well… 

They’d sort of just…

Become a tangle of hands and lips roaming and teeth scraping over smooth skin. They’d pulled the very best out of one another. Now they are replicating that experience almost every chance they get—especially after really good jobs. 

For her part, Christen can’t get enough of Tobin.  But she knows Tobin CAN get enough of her, so she doesn’t push it. 

It’s in the way Tobin always calls her “bro,” and “dude,” and “friend.” How she doesn’t want anyone else on the crew to know about them. How she took a voluntary demotion to gunner from sailing master so that the two of them no longer worked side by side.

But when they’re alone, it’s incredible. Tobin makes her feel things she’s never felt before. She makes her come harder than she ever has in her entire life. They’re celestial bodies that passed too near one another and now gravity is pulling them together. She asks herself every day if she’s going to burn up when they finally crash together. She really thinks she might. 

And then one night, they’re off duty and at the bar. A gorgeous stranger who works some mundane job is giving Christen her all. She's batting her eyelashes and tracing her finger over Christen's shoulder and saying things like, “A pirate? That’s so sexy. I’ve never met one in real life.”

And

“It seems like you could change a lot of things for me”

And

“You can plunder my space ship any time.”

And, eventually, 

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a pirate at warp speed.”

But then suddenly Tobin is at her side, hand around her waist, pulling Christen in and saying something to the woman. Christen is too focused on the way Tobin’s hand fits her hip perfectly to even consider caring about what they might be saying. She just wants to live here: in Tobin’s grasp, in public, in plain view of the rest of the crew. Her body is buzzing as she locks eyes with the quartermaster—soon they'll all know. 

When Tobin releases her and moves toward the stranger, Christen feels like she’s lost her anchor. Everything goes a little quiet around her. She’s dizzy. She traces a circle on her skin around where Tobin’s hand had been with her fingertips, longing for it to return, hoping she might manifest it. 

It takes the loud crash that results from Tobin sliding the other woman across the bar to break her trance. The floor is a mess of sticky liquid and broken glass and people are hurling insults about pirates. Tobin grabs her hand and yanks her toward the door, a chorus of threats and complaints chasing them. Christen pauses, just for a minute, in the doorway to look back at the scene. 

Before she can turn fully, she feels Tobin’s hand on her chin, pulling her gaze back to those perfect brown eyes. 

Everything goes a little quiet again as Tobin’s lips skim softly over hers, calming her completely and sending shivers through her entire body. She feels the words more than she hears them as Tobin whispers into her, “You’re mine, baby.”

and _oh_ _—_

...

she would scuttle a million treasure ships to relive this moment. 

  
  



	3. Witchy Woman

If there’s one thing Tobin has learned from the Disney movies she’s seen, it’s that you really shouldn’t take a potion from a witch, no matter how good it sounds. And, perhaps the worst kind of witch to trust to make you a potion is a shapeshifting witch. 

Snow White, Brave, The Little Mermaid, The Emperor’s New Groove, The Princess and the Frog—the potions always backfire somehow. And, even the movies without potions, honestly, don’t they all kind of warn against supernatural meddling with life and love? 

But, then again, true love and hope always win in the end. 

Who’s to say any of that would have worked out if the heroes hadn’t been so dumb and trusted those witches? So maybe even if this backfires it will be worth it.

—— 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Tobin asks.

“$664.53”

“Wow, that’s a little steep for such a small vile of a potion, don’t you think?” Tobin sighs and rubs the back of her neck. 

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t pay $665 for true love? And, don’t worry, I have a 30-day money-back guarantee.”

She asks for a moment to think about it. She debates with herself, mumbling aloud, “It is true love. Christen is worth it. But I could also just work up the courage to ask her out and then get a night at a five-star restaurant and a hotel suite for this price.” 

She looks again at the shapeshifting witch, squinting to study her, wondering if she should trust her. Something in the witch’s eyes tells Tobin she isn’t running some scam; that the potion will make Christen fall in love with her. She thinks again about how Disney movies always work out as she digs in her bag for her wallet.

“Do you accept credit card? I don’t have that kind of cash on me.”

“I do, but they charge a fee. Could you venmo me instead?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

Tobin uses her phone to scan the witch’s QR code and confirms that she is, indeed, trying to send the witch money. She types $664.53 and then puts "🧙💋👩❤️⚗️🤙" in the “What’s it for?” line. 

—— 

In hindsight, she really should have made the transaction private. She realizes as much when the text comes through from Christen before she's even left the store.

CP 😍: Hey, Tobes? Tell me you didn’t just buy a love potion from a witch for over $650? 

She replies, “Umm, maybe.”

She’s ashamed of herself. She’s been caught so fast. There’s no way she can use the potion with Christen now.

CP 😍: You know the going rate for those is only like $200? 

“Fuck.”

CP 😍: Hey, Tobin?

“Sup?”

CP 😍: Who is that potion for? 

She types “you,” then deletes it. 

She types, “Someone from work” which is not _technically_ a lie, but she feels guilty with her finger hovering over the send button. 

She deletes that and types, “nobody in particular,” but that is definitely a lie.

She settles on, “Umm. Why?”

CP 😍: Hey, Tobes? Did you ever think to ask yourself why I would know the going rate for a love potion? And why I knew immediately that you bought one?

Tobin ponders for a minute. She’d just assumed Christen was an expert in this like she was in everything else. And, she didn’t know if Venmo had alerts set up or something. But then she feels eyes on her and someone silently moving toward her. It clicks and her eyes go wide and she turns around slowly to meet those beautiful green eyes and a teasing expression. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll send the money back. It’s just lavender oil anyway. You don’t need a potion to win me over, Tobes.”

Tobin goes slack-jawed and stares at Christen. You’re— you can...? But the questions all die on her tongue as Christen’s hands cup her cheeks and she leans in slowly. The kiss they share is worth every penny of that fake love potion and more.


	4. Wub

Fear, anger, sadness, surprise, disgust, happiness, and contempt: The seven “universal expressions,” that every human everywhere makes and recognizes. Of course, Tobin knows about those expressions. It’s literally her job. She recognizes them easily and reacts accordingly. She’s good at it, too. She’s good enough at reading emotions that she can sense almost all people’s micro-expressions—those split-second facial expressions that register a person’s true feelings before they can control themselves. 

Early on, she came to recognize so many more patterns of emotion in Christen Press: the way her pupils widen when she’s interested in a conversation, how her chest puffs out just slightly when she’s proud, the fact that her eyes narrow and she chews on her lip when she desires someone. Tobin knows it all. She’s pretty much been the world’s leading expert in Christen Press’ emotions for 15 years. 

And Christen Press has been an expert in Tobin for that long, as well. She knows everything about how Tobin works: inside and out. Even when Tobin changes slightly, Christen notices. 

But for all of their knowledge about each other, all of their perfect understanding, they never really saw it coming: Tobin fell in love with Christen. 

—— 

It all started the first time Tobin really felt fear. Of course, fear is a primal emotion—shared not only universally by humans, but among almost all vertebrate animals. It’s no surprise, then, that it would be an emotional tipping-point for Tobin. 

They were in the kitchen and Christen was preparing dinner when she suddenly started to look wobbly and weak. 

Tobin was by her side in an instant reaching out to steady her. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good, Christen.”

Christen breathed softly, “I’m fine, Tobin,” just as her eyes rolled back and she started to collapse.

Tobin felt the feeing surge through her whole body as she leapt forward to catch Christen before she hit the ground. The fear overwhelmed her at once and rendered her almost entirely incapable of rational thought. She’d pleaded with Christen to wake up as she dialed 9-1-1, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could hear how rushed and incoherent she sounded as she begged, “Christen, please wake up for me. Please.” 

When Christen’s eyes fluttered open, she felt the fear fade. Even though her eyes were dim and distant, Tobin knew things would be okay.

—— 

The second time Tobin really felt fear was when Christen told her that her heart was weak and that without surgery she might not last long. 

—— 

Tobin really felt sadness when she watched as Christen was wheeled from the hospital room to get heart surgery. As the gurney passed through the double doors at the end of the hallway, Tobin found herself imagining what her life would be like without Christen. It made her incredibly and overwhelmingly sad. The imagined grief felt so real and present that she had to sit down to keep herself upright.

—— 

In the coming weeks, Tobin would experience true happiness watching Christen recover. Christen was a fighter and Tobin admired that about her. It was absolutely blissful to watch her get better: the kind of bliss that made Tobin end each night with a smile on her face.

—— 

The emotion that really put Tobin over the edge, though, was contempt. And, really, it was a bit more complex than that—it was a mix of jealousy, disgust, anger, and contempt. 

One Saturday night about three months after the surgery, Tobin found herself sitting alone on the couch. Christen had gone out to dinner—a real rarity since the surgery—and Tobin was thrilled to get a night in alone reading one of her favorite books. Even though she knew every word of the book already, she enjoyed the way it felt to get lost in a story. She liked to feel her head swimming and dizzy as she escaped this universe and dwelled as an observer in another. 

Tobin secretly hoped she might write a world so captivating that others would feel intoxicated by her words. But she knew, deeply, that it would never happen. While she understood others’ emotions so well, she just barely understood what it meant to really, truly, feel. So, she knew she would never be able to write in a way that would compel others to read.

Just as Tobin was considering the impossibility of becoming a novelist, Christen stumbled in the front door laughing with a beautiful stranger on her arm. Tobin stood and walked down the hall to greet them. 

When she said, “Hello, welcome,” though, she felt as if the words were burning her throat. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to welcome the stranger. Still, she knew Christen had invited her in for a reason, so she pushed the sensation that was boiling in her down and took the stranger’s coat with a duchenne smile. 

“Tobin, will you make us a cocktail, please?” Christen asked. 

“Of course, Christen, do you have a drink or liquor preference?”

Christen turned to her new companion and asked, “You up for an old-fashioned? Tobin makes the best old-fashioneds.” Tobin felt a tiny tinge of pride, and a small smile crept across her face. She felt it again when she served them their cocktails and the stranger hummed and said, “This is simply delicious, Tobin. Maybe the best I ever had.”

But her pride was replaced by sadness when Christen asked Tobin to leave them for the night. She went to her room, taking her book with her. She played music through her noise-cancelling headphones all night, hoping desperately that doing so was an unnecessary precaution; worrying that it wasn’t. 

When the sun lit Tobin’s room the next morning, Tobin took off her headphones and listened carefully. She could hear Christen rustling around in her bathroom, so she decided that it would be safe to go make breakfast. Christen emerged from her room shortly after, dressed for a walk—a daily morning-time requirement for her rehabilitation. 

“I’ll be back, Tobin. Just going to do a short walk.” Tobin smiled and nodded before Christen added, “She’s still in there,” on her way out the door. 

The words slugged Tobin in the chest and she felt her smile drop. She still wasn’t quite sure why, but she’d still really held out hope that the woman left last night. That nothing happened between them. She’d hoped that Christen had slept all alone. But none of that was true. And, she was having the hardest time reckoning with why she wouldn’t want the best for Christen. She genuinely wanted her to be happy and to find love. Still, she was wishing away the first woman in Christen’s bed in months. 

When the woman walked out of Christen’s room wearing Christen’s robe, Tobin forced her face to tighten into a fake smile. “Good morning, ma’am.” The woman didn't seem to notice, she was too busy looking at her phone to even look Tobin in the eye.

“Good morning, Tobin was it?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Tobin, do you know where Christen went?”

“Yes, ma’am, she is out on a morning walk. It's part of her post-surgery protocol. I know she can’t wait to get back to morning runs.”

“Ah yes, her surgery. God that scar is hideous, right? And she really does not have the energy to keep up.”

The contempt started in her fingertips—like it was compelling Tobin to choke the woman. As it crept onto her face, she found herself physically turning so that the woman would not see her rolling her eyes.

Tobin concluded that the woman must be out of her right mind. Even with the scar from her surgery, Tobin could recognize just how beautiful Christen was—she was a nearly perfect human specimen. Plus she was incredibly intelligent. The scar didn’t change that.

If Tobin was—

If life were different, Tobin would even be attracted to Christen.

Maybe she was attracted to Christen now.

Tobin tried to compose herself under the weight of her swirling thoughts as she stared down at the cutting board in front of her. She finally responded in an even tone, “I think she will in due time, ma’am." 

Tobin concluded, then, though that the woman was a worthless waste of Christen’s time. It helped explain Tobin’s feelings earlier, too: Perhaps she detected this worthlessness immediately and subconsciously, and that’s why she was not thrilled Christen had a guest. It really was about about Tobin wanting the very best for Christen. And, this stranger was not that.

The woman’s phone rang, effectively ending their conversation. Tobin felt relieved. She didn’t want to say anything else to this despicable human. Still, the woman took the call right at the kitchen counter so that Tobin could hear plainly.

“Oh, hey… yeah, I had a date last night… yeah this scientist from MIT, really pretty except this giant scar on her chest… yeah i mean she seemed kinda smart and this place is super nice so she makes good money… oh yeah, yeah, i’m still at her place… the sex was okay, I guess she just had surgery or something... Listen, you’ll never believe what she has. It’s the most MIT thing ever!... Ha! Close, but no. She has this humanoid robot who is literally making us breakfast right now... It's amazing, she—I mean it—looks so real!... yeah it interacts just like a human, too, but I saw the charging port and everything… yeah, really wild... I kind of worried it might walk in on us last night! How creepy would that be?”

Tobin felt sick. She knew she couldn’t really throw up, but something about the woman’s tone made her feel like she might. She wanted to run and scream and cry and be everything for Christen. Everything this woman would never be. And then it hit her, all at once, overwhelming her in a way she’d never felt before: this swirl of emotion she was feeling, the building pressure inside her for the past few weeks, the joy and sadness and contempt and anger and fear and jealousy, was love. Tobin loved Christen.

She immediately texted Christen: “I learned something important, Christen. Also, your companion is secretly awful, may I throw her out?”

“What did you learn, Tobin? And, yes. I didn’t care for her much, anyway.”

Before answering the text Tobin ordered an Uber. Not caring that she was interrupting the woman’s phone call she blurted out, “Apologies, ma’am, but I've just received notice that Dr. Press was called into an emergency meeting at work. I’ve called a car for you and will prepare your breakfast to go.” The woman looked flustered, but dressed quickly and complied with Tobin ushering her out the door.

When she was _finally_ gone, Tobin replied to Christen: “I learned love.” 

—— 

“I know! It seemed impossible at the time,” Christen beams as she takes a sip of sparkling wine. “The idea of robots experiencing human emotion—it just seemed so out there. But the dynamic machine-learning artificial-intelligence system we designed for Tobin was so dynamic that she didn’t just learn what feelings were, she actually learned to feel. Now, Tobin’s emotional experience of the world is no different from yours or mine in any way. She laughs, she cries, she becomes genuinely overwhelmed by emotion, and, of course, she loves. And, when it comes down to it, aren't we all learning to be a little more human every day?”

Tobin slides up next to Christen, placing her hand around her waist, and joins the group. “We know it seems atypical to some, even with the increasing number of human-robot connections abound these days, but what I feel for her and our kids is real. Trust me, you don’t want to see my mama bear instincts come out.”

“And you age together?” One of their guests asks. 

“Yes, we age together. Almost everything about Tobin is organic, so she ages just like the rest of us.”

“And I’ve adapted to sleeping as a way to recharge, so I can even wake up grumpy like Chris and the kids."

The group laughs at Tobin’s quip as Christen leans over to a friend and whispers under her breath with a wink, “plus that machine learning isn’t just good for learning how to experience emotions, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, cheers to the brides!” Someone calls out. As people clink glasses, he continues, “It’s a shame it took society so long to extend these rights to you.”

Tobin looks deep into Christen’s eyes as she replies, “It might have taken me a while to get here, but I’m just glad I have her now.”


	5. When?

“Ahh, I think that’s it!” Tobin declares, standing back and putting her hands confidently on her hips. She shouts back into the house, “Come look at it, babe!”

Christen ambles out to the garage, glass of wine in hand, to find Tobin beaming proudly staring at her latest completed project. 

It’s really a bit more lopsided than Christen expected it to be. She sets her wine glass on their workbench and grabs the box, watching the instruction manual fall to the floor. “That doesn’t really look like the picture, babe.” She turns the box over and squints, trying to find an angle where the picture on the box might match what’s in front of her. “Did you follow the instructions?”

“It totally does look like the picture! And, I don’t need instructions. It’s like grandpa used to say: ‘You can’t make something with character if you’re always following a recipe.”

Christen sighs, “Tobin, your grandfather was talking about stuff like cakes and hand-crafted furniture, not building time machines. Time machines don’t need character. I’m pretty sure this needs to be put together properly to—you know—not get you lost somewhere in the space-time continuum.”

“Don’t be silly, Chris! I bet this thing works like a charm. Want to try it?”

“Umm… I don’t think so. Going back in time isn’t really for black folks or queer folks, Tobin. The present isn’t great but the past was way worse.”

“I’m not talking about decades, Chris. I’m talking about like back to 5 minutes ago before you started doubting how well I built this fantastic time machine.” Tobin offers her very best pleading face: eyes wide, eyebrows pulled together looking sad, lower lip flipped over. “Come onnnnn! We’ll go in stealth mode so we won’t even know we're there.”

Christen stares for a moment at Tobin, trying to will herself to say no to Tobin’s puppy-dog face. But then Tobin starts to whine like a puppy and Christen just says “Fine! One small trip! Only in the government-approved window.”

“Yessssss!” Tobin calls out as Christen downs the remainder of her wine glass and moves with Tobin toward the time machine. Tobin affixes the proper electrodes and fires up the machine. She programs the arrival time to five minutes prior and the return time to thirty seconds later. She doesn’t want to get stuck in the past, after all, even if it is just five minutes ago. She presses the “stealth mode” button and reaches out to interlock her fingers with Christen’s.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be!” 

Tobin pushes the button to activate the machine and the garage fills with light. Then, like a TV turning off, they disappear into thin air with the time machine. 

—— 

“Holy shit! Look Chris, it’s you!”

“I… I can’t believe it—this really worked, Tobin!”

Tobin and Christen watch the first 30 seconds of their interaction in the garage play out again and then suddenly they are back in the garage and they are shouting and hugging and feeling utter disbelief. 

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Christen yells as she jumps into Tobin’s arms in excitement. 

“I know! I wasn’t even sure I put this thing together right!”

Christen slugs Tobin’s bicep. “Tobin! You could have gotten us lost!” 

“I know, baby. But it wouldn’t be the first time!” She jokes, pulling Christen in for a kiss. 

“Okay. I have to go register the travel with the Bureau of Location in Time. And, since we know it works, I can put in my request to travel further! Maybe they’ll even let me make one change!”

Christen smiles as Tobin pulls her in and plants another kiss on her cheek. As Tobin rushes inside, Christen calls after her, “Tobin, you know you can just tell me when you want to go and why!”

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Tobin shouts back as the door closes behind her. 

Christen does worry about it, though. She’s been very curious what Tobin is up to, and the fact that Tobin won’t tell her makes her a little—well, a lot—suspicious. She’s trying to be trusting, to give Tobin the benefit of the doubt, but it’s just really tough to do that when she feels completely in the dark.

Of course, Christen knows the laws surrounding private time-travel:

  1. All time travel households are extensively vetted by the BLT and users must be issued a microchip to be able to travel (they got theirs last year and have been on the waiting list for a time machine for what feels like ages)
  2. They only get one trip to the distant past (i.e., the past more than 2 years ago) each, ever. 
  3. They can only travel back to a point when they were alive. 
  4. If they want to go outside stealth mode, they must receive prior approval
  5. If they want to change something in the past, it must be evaluated and approved by the BLT, a subcommittee of congress, and signed by the president herself. 



And, those are just the primary rules. There is so much to time law. 

Christen knows there’s so much to time law, because, well, Christen’s mom is a time lawyer. 

—— 

Christen’s mom got into time law—shifting from civil litigation—when Christen was a senior in high school. She remembers well the day her mom took the Time-Extension Bar Exam: it was the day after Christen’s 18th birthday and the day before Christen kissed a girl for the first time. 

But, Christen’s parents don't know about that kiss. In fact, they still didn’t know about Tobin. Even though they live together and have been together for three years, she is just too afraid to tell them. She worried they might be upset. That they’ll disown her. That she is letting them down somehow. After all, the girl she kissed that New Years Eve was kicked out of her house when she came out to her parents. 

It’s just how things work in the rich neighborhoods of Southern California: nobody is gay. If they are, they go to conversion camp or they live in West Hollywood on funds from a secret trust their parents _definitely did not_ set up for them. 

Christen tells herself that she is going to tell her parents every time she visits them. Still, she never does. Instead, she goes on dates with boys from the neighborhood that her mom has set up. 

She knows it isn’t fair to Tobin, but she also feels like she's standing in quicksand. She knows she isn’t ready to lose her whole family for Tobin. Maybe someday, but not yet. 

Tobin understands, though. She never pushes it, never demands it. She just sits peacefully and listens as Christen lies to her parents about the dating scene in Portland and pretends that she met a nice guy at work. She drops Christen off at the airport to spend holidays apart. She sets up a VPN so that Christen's location will show up in Portland when they go to visit Tobin’s family back east.

Christen knows Tobin won’t leave her; Tobin gets it. She was raised in a Christian household and her parents friends didn’t exactly welcome her coming out with open arms. Tobin really gets it. 

And Christen knows Tobin wants to marry her. She wants that too. So much. But— she feels caught in this impossible spot.

And, it’s really not fair to Tobin

Sometimes, when she thinks of going back in time, she thinks maybe she should go back and tell Tobin to walk away. To tell her the baggage is just too great. Tell her maybe she’d be better off with someone else.

——

Five months later a white letter-sized envelope marked “confidential” arrives in the mail for Tobin.

Christen considers steaming it open. She decides not to, though. That never works in the movies. She should trust Tobin, anyway. 

When Tobin reads it, the smile that spreads across her face is possibly the biggest that Christen has ever seen. 

Christen can't resist. She asks again what Tobin is up to.

But Tobin refuses to tell her. She just locks herself in their home office saying she needs to “read some things for her mission.” After Tobin falls asleep that night, Christen creeps into the office and inspects the bookshelves to find out what’s moved. It’s the Malcom Gladwell book about practicing things for 10,000 hours. It's out of alphabetical order. 

Maybe Tobin wishes she would have practiced harder at soccer? Everyone in Tobin’s family says she could have gone pro if her timing and training would have aligned just right. 

Or maybe it's Tobin's favorite harry potter book. There is a lot less dust in front of it on the shelf—it's definitely been pulled out recently. 

Or it could even be Tobin’s 6th grade yearbook. They typically arrange them with Christen’s first and Tobin’s second, but those two are in the opposite order. 

Christen hopes, just a little, that Tobin is going back to rekindle her first love. Someone who could be better for Tobin than Christen can.

—— 

Christen doesn’t let herself dwell on it too much. Or at least she tells herself she’s not dwelling on it. But one day, she comes home from work to find a note from Tobin: 

> _Chris,  
>   
>  Gone to the past, I may be back in like three hours (probably less by the time you get this). Or, maybe you’ll end up somewhere even better than here. Dinner is in the microwave. See you soon, my love.  
>   
> Love,   
> Tobin_

——

She’s 11 and she’s on the pitch taking shots after her first club game of the season. She’s trying to get them into the top corners of the goal—way above where any goalie her age can reach. She’s getting good at it. 

There have been some adults who have come around and talked to her. They want her to play on a U-15 club team. They say she has so much potential. They say she could make a career out of this, like Mia Hamm. So, when Christen sees her dad talking to a lanky woman in soccer shorts, she just assumes it’s another team trying to recruit her and she keeps on with her workout. When the woman walks out to her, she just keeps kicking, showing off how good she is. When she runs out of balls the woman helps her gather them from the goal and line them up again. 

She asks, “So you were really always a perfectionist, huh?”

Christen doesn’t understand so she just shrugs and strikes the first ball perfectly into the top left corner of the net. 

“Christen, you’ve had a lot of teams recruit you, right?”

She shrugs again, launching the second ball toward the far post, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you love soccer?”

She kicks the third ball, a low but quick ball toward the bottom side, near post. “Of course.”

“Can I tell you a secret about loving soccer, Christen?”

She stops then, turning toward the woman and raising her eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Loving soccer isn’t a choice is it? It’s just something that happens to you.”

“Yeah.” Christen agrees rolling her eyes. She’s annoyed. That wasn’t really a secret. 

As she takes a step back to get a running approach on the ball. She wants to curve it in. Before she can take a step forward, the woman leaps over, snatches the ball with her feet, and starts to juggle. “Now, listen, I don’t really have a lot of time here but I do want to tell you a real secret.” 

Christen leans in, watching the woman’s dazzling footwork. 

“Here it is,” the woman whispers, causing Christen to lean in more, “I’m in love with another girl. I want to marry her.”

Christen’s eyes go wide and she searches around immediately to see if anyone has heard. Her dad is, perhaps, fifty yards away and doesn’t seem to be reacting, so maybe it really was a secret. She feels like she can hear her heart beat in her ears as she chokes out, “but, aren’t girls supposed to love boys? Otherwise you’re gay.”

“You got me.” The woman whispers, putting her hands up in the air as though she is a bank robber surrendering, “I’m gay." The woman pauses for a second before asking, "But can I tell you something?”

Christen nods, captivated by the stranger’s openness. 

“I love her like you love soccer: I just can't help it. The truth about love is this, Christen: You don’t really get to choose who and what you love—but the important thing to recognize is that loving another person—that’s usually a very good thing. You shouldn’t love people who hurt you or people who make you feel like you’re not worthy of their love. But sometimes you meet someone and they make your heart beat faster and your mind turn to mush and it doesn’t matter what their gender is. Because... being in love is magical, it transforms you into the best version of you. It’s okay if you don’t fall in love the way other people think you should. You can love guys, or girls, or gender-nonconforming individuals.”

“Gender what, who now?” Christen interrupts. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it some day. The thing I wanted to tell you is this: you’re allowed to fall in love with a person because of who they are.”

Christen nods, letting her eyes shift back to make sure her dad is still out of earshot. 

“Look, the girl I love only kind of understands that, but not totally. The thing is, I love her so much that I would give up a chance to be with her forever just to let her know that it’s okay to want to be with someone like me forever—that she should be with whoever she loves, even if that person is a girl. It’s okay to love a person, Christen. It’s okay to feel things for people and to fall in love, even if they don’t look exactly like you expect them to. Okay?”

Christen nods, a strange feeling starting to overwhelm her. 

But then, the stranger takes it all away. Christen watches in awe as the woman kicks the ball high into the air and then turns around and sends it into the goal without letting it drop to the ground. 

“It’s like soccer, Chris. You just love it because you do, and that’s okay.”

The woman's watch starts to make a beeping sound and she turns and sends Christen a wink saying, “I have to go. But please don’t forget what I said. Ever. You deserve to love and your family will understand that.” 

——

Christen is sitting on the couch fiddling with her wedding ring when she hears the door to the garage open and the sound of someone shuffling in. 

“Tobin?” She calls out. 

As Tobin enters the room, Christen feels a wave of memories and possibilities surge through her. The complexity of choice and so many counterfactuals settle in her mind as she starts to recall a different life, one where she hasn't married Tobin yet. She sees it all, everything that might have been. She is definitely going to be sick. She stands to grab a trash can but her knees are weak and she starts to collapse before she can take even one step forward. Still, as she collapses, she feels Tobin’s strong arms around her waist, hoisting her back up. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you.

“Oh my god, it was you,” she breathes out, regaining strength asTobin’s arms settle around her. “At the pitch that day. In the 6th grade. It was you.” 

Tobin hugs her tightly and whispers, "Yes" into her hair.

She thinks Tobin is holding her up until she realizes that her shoulder is growing wet and Tobin is actually shaking and collapsing in her arms.

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

Tobin’s voice comes out like a gasp between sobs, “I can’t believe actually I still get to have you.”

She smiles into Tobin's hair, pulling her closer and kissing her head softly, "Of course, Toby. You and I are endgame. No time traveling could change that."


	6. Wooooo

“It says there’s a six bedroom house out in the Pinefork neighborhood available.” Tobin calls out toward the kitchen, scrolling through the listings. “You like those gated communities.”

“I do love a good gated neighborhood, but six bedrooms! That’s just so much to manage with the two of us,” Christen calls back as she comes through the doorway from the kitchen and sits down beside Tobin to examine their options. 

“We need to examine our options though, babe,” Tobin cajoles. “It's almost December and Christmas will be coming soon. This place just isn’t working for us. I mean, come on, we got like three trick-or-treaters. What kind of neighborhood is this?”

Christen chuckles, gazing lovingly at Tobin. “Tobin, I know halloween is important to you, but there’s a pandemic. People weren’t letting their kids go out.”

Tobin lowers her bottom lip dramatically to pout before whining, “Yeah, well the pandemic is ruining all of my fun!”

And it’s really very sweet, the way Tobin looks genuinely disappointed by the fact that there were no trick-or-treaters. She’s pouting like there won’t be other halloweens. And, Christen really had hoped for more, for Tobin’s sake. Tobin worked so hard to prepare for halloween, hoping the trick-or-treaters would find a way to get N-95 masks, or something ( _Christen’s really not sure_ ).

“It’s ruining my fun, too, Tobin... I mean, people barely get together. And our neighbors are just so in their own heads that sometimes it's like they don’t even notice me when I am visiting.”

She looks at Tobin, whose expression is soft, eyes big and round, lip still pouting as she begs, “Can we please just go _look_ at it. It has a floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the library. There is a _LIBRARY_ , Chris,” 

“Fine.” Christen relents with a shrug. “Call the realtor.”

“Um. We don’t have one, I kinda ghosted him.” Tobin chuckles to herself.

“Seriously Tobin? This place wasn’t that bad. It took us forever to find someone willing to take us on with our very specific demands.” Christen pinches all of her fingers together and presses the top of her nose. “Fine just book a tour with the listing agent.”

* * *

“So as you can see, lots of natural light.” The agent points around as she moves the living room. “Easy to see, and the space just feels big and historic—which I know is something you mentioned you love.”

“This house comes with free beer?” Tobin opens her mouth wide to offer her cheesiest grin. “Get it? Natural light?” 

Christen slugs her arm and tells the agent to ignore Tobin. 

“What about the last residents?”

“Well, they were an older couple and were just a bit tired of trying to keep up with this whole place themselves. 

Christen shoots Tobin a knowing look across the room, but Tobin trains her eyes out the window, seemingly intent on ignoring the glare. 

“But the good news is that Halloween was a big hit around here. I know you said that is essential to you, Tobin. Each year the current owners set up a haunted house and hand out caramel apples—people come from all over the neighborhood just to visit. Tons of trick-or-treaters. This year, with the pandemic, they toned it down a lot, but they said they still got over a hundred visitors.” 

Tobin bound to Christen’s side. “Chris, did you hear that? It’s a halloween house! It’s like my— Our dream come true!”

Christen sighs and turns to the agent, “Okay, I think I just need a little more time to think about it. Can I have 24 hours? And, will you let me know if there are any other inquiries?”

“Of course. Can do. For what it’s worth, I think the two of you are perfect for this house!”

* * *

“I can’t believe it’s finally here!” Tobin exclaims, carrying her things up the long drive toward the entrance of their new home. “Baby, I owe you so much for saying yes to this!”

“You sure do, babe. And don’t think I won’t be collecting tonight.” Christen replies with a wink. 

Tobin jokingly tries to sweep Christen off of her feet and carry her across the threshold, but immediately stumbles and they both crash to the ground. Christen starts to laugh heartily as she rolls over and kisses Tobin on the cheek. “Babe, why do you always try that when we move houses? It’s never going to work.”

“I just want to do romantic things for you. Like you did moving her for me.” Tobin lowers her head as she stands and pulls Christen to her feet.

Christen lifts Tobin’s chin with her index finger and kisses her softly. “Being yourself is a romantic thing to me, T.” Her eyes crinkle, exposing her hidden smile as she playfully quips, “Now, give me a piggyback ride inside?”

The house is quiet inside, but it feels like hundreds of years of history hang in the silence. There are some slight creaks when particularly large gusts of wind hit the house from the outside. Tobin hopes that Christen finds it charming and is pleased to see Christen beaming as she closes her eyes and listens to the sounds of the old house. “Tobin, I think you were right, this is going to be perfect.

They stash their belongings quickly and explore the house a bit. Christen marvels at the library once again, thinking about all of the time she will spend there. Tobin checks in every room, just to see what it looks like. 

They decide to rest for a bit until the sun goes down. Just as the light of day starts to fade, Christen wakes Tobin. “Baby, night one in our new place. Are you ready?”

Tobin grins from cheek to cheek, “As I’ll ever be!”

She leans to kiss Christen but is interrupted by the sound of the front door whipping open and voices filling the house. Christen leaps up and moves to the door. She opens it just slightly and looks out into the hall just in time to see all of the lights turn on. Her heart is racing as she listens without opening the door. She hears footsteps climbing the stairs and then hears two nearby doors open and close.

“You get the hallway, I’ll get the lights?” Christen whisper shouts, not waiting for a reply as she makes her way toward the back staircase. She catches Tobin’s facial expression just as she leaves the room and starts to worry about whether Tobin can handle this on her own. 

Tobin grabs two sets of chains from her suitcase and heads quietly down to the main hallway. She can see the sconces on the wall start to flicker as Christen interrupts the electrical breaker. She bangs the chains on the ground and gives a loud guttural moan and a long “wooooo.” 

She hears the door to one of the bedrooms open slowly and a woman call out, “Honey, are you okay?” Her voice cracks on the word “okay,” and Tobin smirks.

A doorway downstairs creeks open. A child’s voice calls out, a little strained and in utter fear, “Muh— Muh— Mom, I think the ghosts are back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which, T+C are fluffy ghosts in love.
> 
> Thanks to freshtilapia for feedback on this.


End file.
